


Fixation

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Just last week Jamie’d given himself a very stern talking to about thinking inappropriate and sinful thoughts about the Doctor, and promised himself that he wouldn’t do it anymore, and yet here he was. Doing it again</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixation

“Now, let’s see,” if the Doctor. “If we’re – here. Then the woods would be – about here.” He scribbled furiously on his scrap of paper. “And the river would run – here –”

“You’re drawing it too narrow,” said Zoe.

“It’s not to scale, Zoe,” said the Doctor mildly. He sat back and inspected his crude map. Satisfied, he nodded and slid the paper across the table top to Zoe. “Whereabouts would you say the landing sites are?”

Zoe peered at the map. “Here,” she said. “And – here.”

She kept talking, but Jamie wasn’t really listening. For he was too tired for this sort of talk – and the Doctor, listening intently to Zoe, had begun to suck on the end of his pencil. It was little more than an absent-minded gesture, but Jamie found himself oddly captivated. He watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as the pencil emerged for a moment, visibly wet, before vanishing between the Doctor’s lips again.

He had an acute urge to touch his own lips. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to suppress it, trying to look like he was listening. He tried to actually listen. “So we’re dealing with at least six?”

“Seven,” Zoe said. “There was another one that landed in the woods, remember? I can’t give you a precise location.”

The Doctor was running the blunt end of the pencil back and forth across his lower lip and Jamie found that he was unconsciously echoing the gesture, rubbing his thumb across his own lip, over and over, till it tingled.

And oh, bloody _hell_. He was doing it again. He wasn’t supposed to _do_ this. Just last week he’d given himself a very stern talking to about thinking inappropriate and sinful thoughts about the Doctor, and promised himself that he wouldn’t do it anymore, and yet here he was. Doing it _again_.

The Doctor took back his makeshift map and began to scribble on it, the damp end of the pencil shiny in the lamplight. The end of his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, and Jamie couldn’t help but follow the motion with his eyes. He had that warm, fluttery feeling in his stomach again, the sort that in any other circumstances would be nice, but which he shouldn’t be getting around the Doctor, of all people. It was all wrong. It was sick, and dirty, and it shouldn’t feel _nice_.

He chewed on his thumb nail, trying desperately to find the thread of the conversation again, for it sounded important – but then the Doctor returned the pencil to his mouth, and Jamie’s stomach turned a neat somersault. He swallowed.

And oh Lord, the Doctor’d just said his name. And now he was saying it again. “Hmm? Jamie?”

“Eh?” Jamie blinked, feeling for all the world like a startled rabbit.

“What do you think?” said the Doctor.

“Think? Me?” Jamie babbled. “I’m no thinkin’ anything.”

“As usual,” Zoe muttered, and he couldn’t find it in himself to come up with a retort.

“That’s not very nice, Zoe,” said the Doctor – half-heartedly, to Jamie’s ears. He edged his chair further down the table, scooting closer to Jamie and pushing the map towards him. “Now, see here –”

His fingers brushed Jamie’s hand, and Jamie jerked back, scraping his chair across the floorboards. The Doctor blinked at him, visibly startled by the reaction. Jamie’s mouth worked silently for a moment. “I’m goin’ tae bed,” he declared, forcing himself to stand up.

“You know, this is rather –”

“I’m goin’ tae bed,” Jamie reiterated. “You can tell me in the morning.” He yawned, to hammer the point home. The Doctor studied him for a moment before giving up and returning to Zoe and the map.

In the other room, dark and cold in his borrowed bed, Jamie balled his hand into a fist and aimed a punch at the mattress.


End file.
